


Hiding

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Bones needs a distraction.





	Hiding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CurareChai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurareChai/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for curarechai’s “pre-relationship Bones/Sulu [...] Music” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/162565904960/prompt-list-3).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Pretty much any time Leonard has to put on his dress uniform, he knows the day is ruined. Add to that the transporters, and there was just no saving the evening. But the worst of it’s proven to be the infernal racket the Mrennenimians have the gal to call _music_ , which is about the equivalent of calling a pebble a tasty feast. It’s loud, blaring, and constant, enough to blow out his eardrums. He has half a mind to have himself beamed back up and deem the whole place medically uninhabitable. Except Spock would never let him hear the end of it, and he can’t afford a court martial that might get him transferred—Jim would never last without him.

He spends most of the ‘banquet’—which, horribly enough, has no chairs but simply forces everyone to walk about plucking food off tables with their fingers and eat it standing—trying to avoid their hosts. The Mrennenimians are nice enough—‘musical’ taste aside—but they insist on striking lengthy conversations that Leonard can’t hear half of. In the interest of avoiding a diplomatic incident, he quickly swerves when he sees their chief physician headed towards him. Jim’s already on the dance floor in the middle, sandwiched between two aliens, and though Spock’s standing conveniently against the wall, Leonard doesn’t trust Spock to save him. The next closest officer is Sulu, currently hovering over a plate of what looks like olives trapped in cheese.

Leonard beelines there, mind already racing for something, _anything_ to say that’ll make him seem too busy to be bothered. By the time he reaches Sulu, he’s got nothing, and Sulu doesn’t hear him when he clears his throat.

He has to actually grab Sulu’s shoulder, which gives Sulu a little start. Leonard turns them both towards the table, back facing the hall. Hopefully that’ll be a big enough barrier. Leonard yells over the ‘music’ anyway, “I need to talk to you about your private medical files!”

Sulu looks at him a little wide-eyed, mouth falling open to ask, “Really? Is something wrong?”

Leonard shakes his head, realizes he probably shouldn’t be scaring people like that, and instead leans right over. He isn’t normally one to get so close in personal space outside of a physical, but it’s necessary to make sure Sulu hears and the aliens don’t. Practically flattening them together and still holding Sulu’s shoulder, Leonard leans into Sulu’s ear—Sulu tilts to aid him, strong body aligning perfectly with his. Leonard yells into it, “I can’t hear a damn thing over this noise, and they still keep trying to talk to me!”

Sulu listens for an extra few seconds, then pulls back with a wide grin that Leonard should’ve anticipated. At least it isn’t as big as Jim’s or Uhura’s would’ve been. Sulu takes a second before leaning on the opposite side, hiking over Leonard’s shoulder to suggest, “So go dancing!”

Leonard snorts, “I prefer my dance partners tailless, thanks!” Sulu just shrugs, even though he’s got that sort of grin that says he wouldn’t mind if they had a couple of tails and some extra arms to boot. But he’s younger than Leonard, more open, more adventurous. Leonard just wants to have a quiet banquet that won’t leave his ears ringing. 

Then something seems to catch Sulu’s eye over Leonard’s shoulder, and he reaches for Leonard’s other shoulder, the two of them now completely touching from toe to chest, and Sulu carefully keeps Leonard turned where he is, asking, “I don’t suppose the alien you’re running from is the one with the one with the purple nostril shoots?”

Leonard just groans, even though there’s little chance Sulu will hear it. Except Sulu does seem to understand, because he says so close to Leonard’s ear that Leonard can feel his soft lips brushing the surface, “Come with me.”

Leonard doesn’t get to answer—Sulu’s free hand is already slipping into his, intertwining their fingers, and the next thing Leonard knows, he’s being tugged right onto the dance floor. Mrennenimians and a few Enterprise officers smoothly part to allow it. Their dancing isn’t _all_ that different than the Terran variety, aside from the whirling tails and rapid finger movements, though few are doing partner dancing. Leonard hadn’t anticipated doing that either, but Sulu gracefully transitions into holding him the way any southern gentleman would treat a maiden at ball. 

As he’s no southern bell, Leonard declines lifting his hand to Sulu’s shoulder and instead rips Sulu’s off his waist, just holding both hands instead. At least if he keeps them facing one another, he’s got a human shield should one of the aliens start pestering him again. It helps that Sulu seems pleasantly indulgent about it, beyond just a lieutenant helping out their chief medical officer. Leonard has half a mind to have Jim put him in for commendations. 

As the ‘music’ is baffling, there’s no real rhythm to their dance, so they just sort of bob and sway in each other’s arms enough to keep from looking overly conspicuous. Sulu, it seems, is as skilled at dancing as he is at fencing, even when it’s a gruff older man in his arms and there’s no tune to follow. Leonard tries to match it, tries to be a good partner, because he does realize that Sulu’s only trying to help him. And he does appreciate that. And Sulu’s not exactly the worst person to have in his arms.

He’s never thought of Sulu like that before, actually. He rarely thinks of _men_ like that. He doesn’t want to think of the crew at all. But it’s hard when Sulu’s looking right at him, capturing and holding his gaze lest any pesky Mrennenimians try to, and the stifling heat of the dance floor is already starting to make Leonard sweat. Pale skin ever so slightly flushed from it, Sulu makes for a handsome sight. The fluorescent lighting of the Mrennenimian reception hall doesn’t do him justice, but it does catch along his defined cheekbones and circle his dark hair like a halo. He wears the sort of genuine, amused smile that’s the exact opposite of Leonard’s irritated frown, though Sulu at least still looks mature about it—hardly the giddy idiots this planet seems to breed.

He leans in again to Leonard, his trim frame now stirring unwanted things when it touches Leonard’s, and Leonard jerks away before Sulu can say a word. He’s abruptly reminded of just why he hates dancing—other than the looking stupid part—and he steps out of Sulu’s grip before his mind does anything worse.

He mutters, “Thanks, Sulu,” probably too low for Sulu to even hear, then stomps off to face the Mrennenimian music, which will probably, somehow, be less trouble than his dancing.


End file.
